


Spontaneous

by mintybears



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, F/F, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Nobility, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24504502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintybears/pseuds/mintybears
Summary: The princess receives many visitors, both Zheali and human, without losing her composure -- usually.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Princess/Noblewoman Pursing the Princess's Hand
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Original Characters & Original Works Flash Exchange May 2020





	Spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Guinevak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guinevak/gifts).



“The Lady Adira Gannon.”

“Who?” the princess asked, but it was too late; the guard had already left to admit the visitor without loading the relevant information chip for her notes. 

In fairness, a dozen shuttles had landed that day, all carrying at least one visitor. Fatigue was setting in for her and for all involved.

The swish of voluminous skirts preceded Lady Adira’s entrance. Another one those prim girls, then, the princess thought; of the ladies who’d presented themselves before her, whether Zheali or human, only the terribly well-bred ones had bothered with such impractical attire.

As for the ones who had not bothered...but thoughts of those others, however fond, vanished as Lady Adira’s face came into view.

“Your Royal Highness.” She dropped into a curtsy, the massive emerald-green flounces on her dress trembling as she did so.

There was something that ought to be done or said next, something fairly important, yet the princess could not remember at all -

“May I sit?” The request fell like jewels from the visitor’s full, red lips.

That was it. “Yes, yes, sit. Please accept my apologies,” the princess gabbled. Her eyes were riveted on Lady Adira’s face — all delicate curves and blue eyes within a strangely old-fashioned frame of pipe curls — as she continued: ”I must also apologise for my notes being, ah, incomplete. If I could trouble you for some information.” 

She would request more than some information, mountains of it, if only the schedule did not restrict her to fifteen minutes per visitor.

“From which province do you hail?”

“From Ransome 393. My home is at Hartling Hall.”

“At Hartling - oh! Then you are the daughter of the Duke of Roste.”

“Niece.” There was the suggestion of a barb in Lady Adira’s answer. “My late father entrusted me to his care.”

“Oh, yes.” The princess usually knew better than to go blundering into sensitive subjects. She coughed and made another apology.

“I assume Your Highness intends to inquire about the reason for my visit. It is simple: I have come to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“Marriage! Of course!”

A short silence followed which nonetheless afforded the princess ample time to reflect on what she had said.

“I mean that…of course it is reasonable that you should have come to ask for my hand. This is something people do on occasion.”

Lady Adira’s face was impassive, except for — was it a smile? The princess had never been the most astute reader of human expressions, and she could not trust her own judgement on anything at the moment. Mostly, she wished that Lady Adira would speak again in her voice, so unlike the rasps which were common among her people. A sweet, high voice suited to song was a prized quality. Even if she herself was not accomplished in music, perhaps her wife — 

“May I have your answer? My shuttle driver is of an impatient sort.”

“You require an answer? Now?” The princess was tempted to say _Yes_ right away; only a vague sense of something more to come held her back.

“Ideally, yes.” Lady Adira stood and approached with surprising speed, her skirts swishing alarmingly. “I will be plain: There is another aspect to consider.”

_Ah._

The princess did not know why her hearts should sink so rapidly. By rights, they should have been invigorated by having her visitor closer so that she could breathe in her clean, earthy human scent.

“If I marry, I will receive my share of my father’s fortune — the store of belkonium stones he amassed before he died. My uncle has been doing his best to prevent this by limiting my social opportunities, and by providing me with attire to make me unattractive to prospective spouses, as you can see.”

“Unattractive?” The word the princess should have noted first was _belkonium,_ but she felt that a protestation was needed when something was so very removed from the truth. “You are not at _all_ \- did you say a store of belkonium stones?”

Another possibly-smile. “Yes, Your Highness. I am aware that they are of significant value in the capital.”

One palm-sized stone could generate a week’s electricity for a ship. However, that was not quite the point. “So your intention, then, is to marry me so that you can have access to the store…for monetary gain?”

“No.” Lady Adira was even closer now, impossibly so, her yellow curls almost touching the princess’ red strands. “The store can be my dowry. My intention is to be free from my uncle’s influence, and to be married to a beautiful woman.”

“Beautiful?” No one had ever called the princess that. Dignified, hard-working, cheerful — but beautiful? She did not have the “natural” looks so favoured by the Zheali; her hair was too fiery a red, her skin too green-tinged, her eyes violet like those of her distant ancestors.

“Yes.” At last, there was a smile that even the princess could recognise with certainty. “I have watched you all my life through the screens. Meeting you in person has been something of a dream of mine, and now that I have met you, I feel more confident than ever in my choice. That is, if you…”

“Yes.” The princess reached to take Lady Adira’s left hand in hers, as was the custom, and placed a kiss of affirmation on it. “Yes, I will marry you, and I - ”

A shrill noise emanated from near the door, interrupting the romantic speech that she had often dreamt of making to her spouse — admittedly, with more preparation. 

“The shuttle driver,” Lady Adira sighed.

“They can wait a bit longer,” the princess said without turning her head. “I shall generate a message to your uncle for them to take back.”

“Your Highness.” Their faces, more specifically their lips, were now only a feather’s breadth apart. “If I could make another request.”

“Of course.”

“May I be permitted to kiss my future wife?”

There was another noise from the shuttle, but it seemed only a faint echo compared to their breaths. “You may,” the princess declared generously before taking her betrothed by the waist and pulling her into a hearts-pausing kiss.


End file.
